


Clay

by TheAmazingCat (Kaybay2323)



Category: Vikings (TV), Vikings (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, OOC Rollo, Tw Sexual Assault Scene, angsty, anti current version, no happy ending, tw rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaybay2323/pseuds/TheAmazingCat
Summary: Gisla and Rollo deal with the ramifications of his abandonment of her and their children





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a Gisla/Rollo fic (My first for them) or maybe it’s more Anti-current Gisla/Rollo. I just had alot of feelings about how the show was portraying them and needed to write it down. Honestly this may fit more in line with the historic figures. 
> 
> This is probably gonna be an AU given the current episode might make some things not happen. This is working on the notion that Gisla just thinks Rollo is raiding Christian lands though. Which I don’t think is out of the realm of possibility. 
> 
> *******I should put a trigger warning in this, their is mention of rape and a sexual assault scene. So please if that kinda talk or stuff upsets you please do not read*******

The summer breezy was gentle against Gisla’s skin and the salt from the sea could be smelt even within the castle. The summer nights were short and quick, and Gisla would be so often reminded of the happiness that use to surround summer. Rollo and she had spent these last nine summers with relative ease and comfort.

Gisla tried, as she did could not push the memory of her husband far from her head. When the sky swirled together to signal the change in time Gisla would even admit she missed him. Moreover she could not seem to hate him. Gisla knew what it was to hate someone, she knew what is was to love someone, however for the first time she experienced hating the warm feelings she still felt towards him.

Most of all she hated the longing. Gisla thinks she might be able to put up with her mixed emotions towards Rollo, if only she did not long for him so. Yet when she looks at his empty throne she longs for him, she burns for him. She rages inside her head. How could leave? He belongs here. With her, with their children, he did not belong with his pagans. She fears after not hearing word from him that his pagans killed him when they left. Gisla calls him a fool in her mind, for only a fool would leave everything they’ve built together for men who he could neither trust nor rely on.

Gisla had pleaded with him, raged at him, demanded from him; she had tried everything within her power to keep him from leaving. Yet he left. _Fool, Fool, Fool._ She chanted in her head when he left, she willed herself not to cry, she was a daughter of Frankia, she would not let anyone see her cry. She did not give Rollo her blessing as he left, she did not look at him. She gave him nothing.

Yet still she misses and longs for him. Gisla misses his heavy breathing at night, a sound she had grown so accustom to, she misses his weight on her bed, she misses watching him at his desk, she misses helping him rule Normandy, she misses seeing him play with their children. She simply misses him. It was a safe thought in her head, but she would never confess this, even to her Priest, that she misses him. When she goes to her Priest for confessional she makes no mention of her Viking husband for fear the words will slip between her lips.

Too proud, too ashamed, too hurt. Most women, most Princesses, would scorn, hate, rage, bitter themselves against any man who dare abandon them with three children none the less. But Gisla cannot, her heart still longs for him. Each night after her children were asleep, she would sit by her fireplace and play with the arm ring Rollo gave her so long ago. His long ago promise to her that he was hers, a promise that amounted to nothing in the end. She would eye his empty chair beside hers.

She would stare at the fire, her thoughts consuming of him, and wonder does he think of her as well? On the camp side of some foreign beach, does he long for her as she does him? Or is the excitement of treasure, drinking, and women enough to push her from his thoughts? Is his bed as cold as her is? Or has he found someone to replace her? Does he dream of their happy life the way she does? Or is glad that his time with her has passed?

Was that happiness all a lie? Rollo promised that this life was what he had wanted, and yet in a flash of an eye he had broken his word. Was she too blinded by her love for him to see his unhappiness, or was Rollo just a very different man from who he appeared to be.

At times she would sit and wonder what fault she committed as a wife that he felt the need to leave her. Though Gisla could not find any fault in herself. As a wife she had done everything she was meant to. What had she not done? She had gone into childbed for him, each time with the fear she would not come out, bore three living children, lost others, raised his children to love and admire him, had guided him while ruling Normandy, had told him of the neighboring countries, of their cultures, looked over his papers, she stood beside him in battles, properly arranged their household, and promoted him to her father. Most importantly she had… she had loved him. Fully and unrepentantly, she had put aside her hatred for Vikings, for his culture, for his birth, for his worship of false gods, and loved him anyways. She was no fool, she knew Rollo was not a Christian in his heart, that he still longed for his pagan gods and yet she had put that aside. She had allowed herself to love him despite his lack of devotion to her faith.

Still this was how he saw fit to reward her good nature towards him. Abandonment. If not for her three children she might have wished she had obtained that annulment so many years ago. She had thought she knew Rollo, she expected much from him but never abandonment.

It stung at her heart whenever she thought of the word, but it was true she was abandoned. She could do nothing but wait for her Viking husband to return from raiding Christian lands, plundering God’s houses, and raping decent Christian women. Rollo could not think she would ever forget his brother’s raid on her beloved Paris. Rollo could not possibly think she did not know what raiding with his nephews would bring, what he would do and what sins he would commit. Rollo would damn his soul to eternal torment by raiding; he will commit the most unchristian acts. Gisla nearly wept at that thought, Rollo did not care, he did not care at all that he would be damning himself to eternity without her, without there children, to unimaginable hell.

            When messengers came from her father demanding to know why her husband had left she was lost for words. All she could do was request her father support her as Regent for her son, William, and that she prayed for Rollo’s safe return to them soon. Though the last part was a lie, she could not bend her knees and pray to god for her husband’s safe return. She would not pray for his safety in battle over innocent Christians. She could not. At night she prayed that her husband would see the errors of his ways and seek penance for his sins.

All she could now is wait.

~~~~~~~

Weeks passed and the summer months were long gone and the chill in the air grew. Normandy had cold winters, for so long this factor had not been a thought in her head, as she had Rollo to keep her warm at night. Now… now he was gone. She had expected Rollo to return to Normandy by fall at least. She knew very well that winter months were unsuitable for raiding.

News reached the court by Christmas that Ragnar Lothbrok has died, killed in a pit of snakes by King Aelle of Northumbria. The news makes Gisla’s heart startle for the first time in months, the man who held a knife to her throat, who used her faith to attack beloved Paris was dead. Gisla could not help but celebrate the death of the Viking demon that had caused so many innocents to die had suffered horrible before his death and she took comfort in the fact that those souls he took could now join The Lord in peace. She celebrated The Lords birth more joyfully then she intended and Rollo hardly even entered her thoughts.

            In the back of her mind she must have known this joy would not last. Not long after Christmas, as she was still basking in this triumph, Gisla was punished again. Her beloved little Marcellus had caught a sudden chill and fever, she had sat at his bed side with cool cloths and the physician she employed but it was of no use. Marcellus was dead before the morning light hit him. As the Priest preformed last rites Gisla recalled how his labor had lasted more then 3 days, he took longer to birth then to die.

            She touched his soft brown curls before they took him away. Sealing his face to her memory. Marcellus was such a sweet boy, yet of both her sons he was the only one to look like Rollo. His name on her mind caused her curse. He should be here she thought bitterly. He should not be off with his Vikings or dead at the bottom of the sea, but with her and their children. He should have been there for Marcellus. She felt her eyes become wet; her son had been strong and healthy, then suddenly dead. Her confessor even told her that God finds ways to punish the wicked in the harshest of ways.

During her son’s funeral little William come to her, she petted his blonde hair, and held him close.

“Mama why did Marcellus die?” He questioned her.

“Your father killed him.” Gisla responded coldly. She then knelt down to his level and said “Your father angered God by abandoning Normandy and God in turn took his vengeance out against us and took Marcellus from us.”

William stood there in shock, looking at his brother’s casket.

“William promise me,” Gisla said, taking her young son by both hands. “Swear to me you will never abandon Normandy or Frankia.”

“I will mother.” William said, though Gisla heard fear behind his voice. He had no father to make a man of him Gisla though. She would have to do. For if Rollo did not return, all William will know of ruling will come from her.

Outside Gisla knew the trees surrounding them were bare and no leaves grew on them. Gisla felt as though all her remaining love for Rollo had been taken with the winter.

 

~~~~~~~~

With her new lack of feelings towards Rollo discovered, Gisla was able to put more time and effort into home life and defense. In the weeks after Marcellus’ death Gisla found herself too focused to even think of her long gone husband.

Yet as suddenly as he left her had returned. It was still winter, yet the snows had all but melt and Gisla new spring was going to be upon them soon. His arrival home was announced to her as Gisla was helping to teach her daughter, Celsa, how to make proper stitches. When the servant had announced the Duke had returned, Gisla felt her blood run cold. He entered the great room, his eyes were lite and his grin was large. It was plain to Gisla he did not suffer from their separation. In appearance though he was utterly Viking, his clothing, his hair, and his beard. He looked like the animal she first met, not the man she fell in love with. She knew by his appearance that he had fully rejoined his people in all aspect. His eyes did not even meet hers; instead he went to Celsa first, picking her up in his arms, commenting on how she had grown over this past year.

“Where are your brothers?” He said cooing at little Celsa.

“William is with his tutor and Marcellus is dead.” Gisla said sharply calling for the nurse to take her daughter to her lessons.

“What?” Rollo asked in complete shock, his eyes now attempting to hold hers.

“He died shortly after Christmas, a fever took him. You only have one son now, if you wish to visit him as I said he’s with his tutor.” Gisla said, willing her voice not to crack or break. She could not show him or she would break. She would allow him to make up for his mistakes, and she could not allow that. She simply took her daughter from his arms and gave her to the nurse. She then turned to leave the room.

“You did not think to send me a message?” Rollo asked. With that Gisla whipped her head back. Their was a ringing in her ears. How dare he.

“Where would have I sent such a message? To the towns you plundered? To the bottom of the ocean where I hoped you might be. To your filthy pagan village? You think I’d dare put one of my people in such danger in the hopes of finding you?” Gisla said with venom in her voice and began to exit the room.

“Gisla…” Rollo called out to her. “Please Gisla… hear me out.”

Gisla stopped in her tracks but did not turn her head.

“No, my lady or wife. Nothing more.” Gisla said and walked out of the room.

~~~~~~

Rollo gave his wife a few days before visiting her chambers, it was late at night and Gisla was sitting in her chair sewing up a tear in one of her gowns. Rollo admired it from afar, he knew the gowned very well. He had picked out the fabric for her years ago. She had it fashioned into a rather beautiful dress. It was so beautiful that Gisla decided to keep it for so many years.

“May I sit with you?” Rollo asked as he entered. He had taken over an hour to gather up the courage to come talk with her.

“This is your castle, you are entitled to sit where you please.” Gisla responded not looking up at him.

“Gisla…” He said softly, reaching out to touch her arm but stopping himself at the last moment. “You are angry, I deserve that, you hate me, and I deserve that as well. I deserve all these things, but I know you. I know you are not just feeling hatred towards me but you are also mourning Marcellus.”

At the name of her dead son Gisla’s hands frozen, her throat dried and her heart became sick.

“You cannot do this alone love. I know how you love our children. Would Marcellus want you to do this alone? Would he not want his parents to mourn him together?” Rollo said hopefully. Gisla looked up at him, and met his eyes. Her eyes were steel against his.

“Do you know what my priest told me after he died?” Gisla asked rhetorically “He told me the story of King David losing his first born son by Bathsheba. Now you see Bathsheba was a married woman when David met her, but her marriage did nothing to stop King David. He took her anyways, and she became pregnant with his child. So David unfairly placed Bathsheba’s husband in battle to ensure his death and then he married the dead man’s widow who he had dishonored.”

“Where is this going?” Rollo asked slightly annoyed.

“David angered God, and God took his vengeance out on David and Bathsheba’s son, killing it mere hours after its birth.” Gisla said.

Rollo was silent. The implications of what Gisla had said spoke volumes. She blamed him; her forgiveness was something he could never ask for. It was out of the realm of possibility.

As Rollo shock over came him Gisla stood up and went over to her jewelry box, she pulled out Rollo’s arm ring, and clasped it between her fingers. She went back over to their matching chairs and placed the bronze ring on the arm of the chair. She sat back down in her chair and went back to sewing. Rollo looked the arm ring for a long moment before picking it up. He then stood to leave her chamber.

“You should not come here again Rollo.” Gisla spoke before he left, her eyes lingering on the torn gown. “You must grow content with our two remaining children. For unless you wish to demand your marital right and force yourself on me, like I don’t doubt you did the poor other Christian women on your travels, then you shall have no more children from me.” Gisla said.

Rollo did not deny her accusations; he simply nodded and left her chambers.

~~~~~~~~

Not even the summer heat could thaw Gisla to Rollo. As time went on the once happy couple saw very little of each other. They each perform their duties separately. Gisla spent her time mostly with her children, with the management of the castle and praying for her dead son. Gisla tried not to hear the servants gossip but her ears were all too open. They giggled over the fact that her sheets were only in need of washing when her monthlies came and that the Duke had taken a slave woman he captured to his bed at night. If someone had whispered this years ago, Gisla might have flown into a rage against her husband, and yet now she felt nothing. No pain, no love, only pity for whatever poor girl he was holding against her will.

            Rollo on his part grew less patient with his wife’s coldness and began to lash out on her whenever he saw her. Though he did not demand martial rights, nor did he hit her, his anger towards her was well known. He would snap at her for the smallest of things while in her presence. Which was not often, most days he spent little time with her, his children, or even the Castle. Instead he fled to taverns and whore houses, enjoying all the delights his wife denied him. He found sick comfort in the fact that he may do as he pleased whereas Gisla would never know another man so long as she lived.

            Rollo’s time with her grew so faint that Gisla was shocked one evening when he demanded she eat supper with him at his table.

            “Your father wrote to me.” Rollo said halfway through the meal.

Gisla took a sip of her goblet of wine and then asked “What news does he have from Paris?” Gisla realized this was no romantic gesture but rather him informing her of something.

“It is my nephews, the sons of Ragnar, they have a larger army which invaded Wessex and Northumbria. They have killed King Aelle, they butchered him.” Rollo spoke, Gisla could see the pride in his face and near wanted to vomit.

“To avenge that fiend of a father.” Gisla said bitterly.

“Careful.” Rollo warned. “Ragnar was my brother. His sons have every right to seek revenge. He was a man of great gifts and he was murdered.”

“Your brother?” Gisla mocked “You expect me to pity him? The man who held a knife to my throat, who plundered my city? How could I ever feel anything but hatred towards him?” Gisla asked rhetorically.

“I did not come here to fight with you. Only to tell you that my nephews have begun to avenge their father’s death.” Rollo said wearily.

Gisla sighed and was silent for a moment, then asked.

“And you stay here? Do you not wish to go with your nephews and avenge your brother death as well?”

“My place is here.” Rollo simply responded

“Is it? I thought you were a Viking? I thought you told me that part of you will always long for that life? Here is your chance to prove yourself to me again. Leave Normandy, use the army my father provided. Attack The King of Wessex and help your nephews. I’m sure after you prove your loyalty to them they will welcome you with open arms. For what Vikings would not want you then. I’m sure they would rejoice in knowing you would be their beside them, killing Christian men and raping Christian women, you seem to have quite the taste for it.” Gisla said bitterly. For the first time she had brought up the knowledge of Rollo’s behavior and Gisla could tell by the red in his face she had gone too far.

With that Rollo slammed his fists down on, and threw his plate off the table. He went over to Gisla, and while he did not touch her, the look in eyes made Gisla’s heart shiver with fear.

“You are my wife. I will take none of your judgments or your petty jealousy; you were given to me by your father to be my wife. If you wished others not to warm my bed you should not have denied me my rights. But I am sure your God will understand your betrayal of sacred marriage vows.” Rollo said leaning very close to her face, his hot spit flinging into her face. Gisla attempted to leave but Rollo gripped her wrists and forced her to stay seating in her chair. Gisla heart raced, she had never feared Rollo like she had in this moment. Even on her wedding night, when she was certain she would be raped and brutalized by him, she never feared him like this. He crotched low to her ear, her caressed it with his nose, breathing in her the scent of her hair, Gisla stomach churned. “I do not answer to you wife. You should have been grateful I even returned to you. That I did not stay with my people, that I returned and allowed you to have a proper status again. If I had died who would marry you? The Christian woman who had bed a Viking of her own fear will? Who took pleasure in my bed? What good Christian Lord or Prince would want you or look after our children? What would your father have done with you when William came of age? A convent? Or marry you to the lower level Lord who would take you? Would they have been kind to you? No my dear, you should have opened your arms and you legs to me again when you saw that I had not abandoned you to such a fate. One day you’ll learn that you shouldn’t have treated me so.” He said kissing and licking the inside of Gisla ear. He then bite it sharply and she yelp. He chuckled at her pain. He let go of her wrists and pushed himself away from her. He shoved her porridge and meat to the floor, and knocked over her wine glass. “Go hungry for all I care.” and fled the room.

Gisla began to shake after Rollo left, her rubbed her wrists and saw that her arms were beginning to bruise, her eyes felt wet, her heart raced like horses on the move. Servants rushed into the room, and cleaned up Rollo’s mess. Gisla wondered what they must think. Did they pity her, being married to a brute? Or did they think her cold and deserving of her husband’s abuse and neglect?

Gisla’s pride ate away at her; she felt heat rising on her face. How dare Rollo do this to her, how dare he make her suffer this humiliation. She near ran to her chambers, and slammed her door shut. She sent her servants away. Picking up the nearest vase she smashed it to the ground. It’s clay pieces scattering all around Gisla. The clay was easily broken, Gisla hardly need to put any force into the matter.

She sat down on her bed, and allowed tears to fall out. Rollo had once swore his destiny was to be with her, she had clung to that idea over this past year. Yet he had done this, he had left her and now he humiliates and torments her. Was this her destiny? Was what Rollo had said those years ago been a lie?

They were still together, that much was true, but Gisla reasoned, destiny may not mean happiness together?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please if you enjoyed this leave me a kudos and tell me what you loved in the comments!


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